


if you had told me years ago that i would be writing willy wonka porn in 2020, i would have laughed in your face

by marie_deneuve



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005), Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face Slapping, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I'm Going to Hell, Pegging, Pillow Talk, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Self-Indulgent, Slapping, Smut, he takes the strap ok, willy wonka gets willy wonked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_deneuve/pseuds/marie_deneuve
Summary: A friend asked me if Willy Wonka gets pegged, and instead of just answering the question, I wrote this short piece.Spoiler: he does.
Relationships: Willy Wonka/Original Character(s), Willy Wonka/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	if you had told me years ago that i would be writing willy wonka porn in 2020, i would have laughed in your face

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey, guys! Welcome to my first ever straight-up smut fic! Huzzah! This was supposed to be short, I don’t know who put the word count in the thousands. It wasn’t me, I promise. My OFC’s name is Eliza. HOWEVER, I intentionally don’t describe her at all in this fic, so you may insert yourself in her place, or another OFC, or whomever, really. I have a bunch of other WIPs involving her where I flesh her out a lot more, but I thought I would go ahead and post this one first. I've poured my heart and soul into her character, so I hope you all like her!
> 
> (Final warning: Contains pegging and slapping. If that ain’t your cup of tea, be forewarned.)

Eliza remembers quite vividly how she felt about Willy Wonka when she had first met him. She had found him to be an ill-mannered, arrogant manchild with far too much money and too many resources for his own good. She was disdainful of his methods, his theatrics, and above all, his apparent flippancy toward most anything that did not concern him.

But most of all, after some heavy soul-searching, she realized that she was jealous of the world-famous chocolatier. They both grew up in similar stifling households. They both made the journey into adulthood with the burden of disapproving parents weighing heavily on their shoulders. And to Eliza's neverending chagrin, she came out with infinitely less to show for it. His mere existence once made the rigid perfectionist within her feel so unsure of herself, so unproductive. Her years of hard work felt fruitless.

Of course, things are far different now. She has long since discovered the selfless, soft-hearted man hiding underneath layers of trauma. The relationship between them is...well, more than friendly, although neither of them has dared yet to expound on that. Eliza practically lives at the factory with a renewed sense of purpose. And in a welcomed twist of fate, Wonka's presence is now a reminder that she is valued, that she has something to offer, that she is special. He makes her feel special.

She calls him Willy when they are alone, for example. Not Mr. Wonka, just Willy. Something that is exclusively hers.

This lovely sight is also exclusively hers. Wonka himself lying completely bare beneath her, eyes half-lidded, alabaster skin flushed, legs spread wide. She must admit, having such a powerful man in this compromising position is beyond exhilarating.

The strap-on she is wearing is buried inside him, right down to the hilt. She gives an experimental, shallow thrust, and is rewarded with a short, breathless whine. He shuts his eyes, long lashes casting shadows across his face, and sighs deeply and contentedly.

Eliza takes that as her cue to begin fucking him in earnest. She starts at a slow, steady pace, carefully studying each and every movement. Wonka's hands curl up into fists, gripping at the sheets below him, and his legs wrap fully around her waist, heels lightly digging into her back.

He swallows once, and his Adam's apple bobs in such a manner that she's tempted to dip down and sink her teeth into it. Between quickening breaths, he whimpers, "Harder...please, I can handle - ah!"

She gives him no time to finish before she complies. Her new tempo is relentless, pounding the bed frame rhythmically against the wall. It's not easy on her knees, but she wouldn't stop for the world right now.

Wonka's mouth hangs open, gasps and wanton moans escaping freely. His hair has gone askew, and his blush has deepened. He looks positively debauched, and Eliza can't help but think he's never looked more beautiful.

"Pretty," she says out loud before she can stop herself. "You are so pretty, Willy."

His eyes pry themselves open, and he blinks up at her very slowly. While his expression is contorted in pleasure, there's something else under the surface, something unreadable. Eliza briefly wonders if she should pause, ask him if he's all right. He speaks up before she has the chance.

"Please hit me, Eliza," he begs. "I want you to hit me."

Although it's unexpected, she does not balk like she did the first time he ever asked for it. She knows that he can handle it, and she is perfectly willing to oblige. She still can't help the flurry of nerves that settle in her stomach at the request.

Wonka yelps at one particularly rough thrust, and the resulting shock of electricity that shoots up her spine makes the decision for her. She gingerly smacks his cheek, and he outright giggles at her. "Come on, you know - ah! - you know I can handle...m-much more than that..."

She fully slaps him, and he winces. "Yes, harder!" he nearly barks at her.

This time she finally reels back and cracks him square across the face, the force of it knocking his head to the side and the sound practically echoing in the large bedroom. She watches the angry handprint bloom on his right cheek with a swell of pride.

Wonka moans a series of syllables that sound vaguely like her name, and his legs tighten around her waist, near constricting. This makes it quite difficult to keep up her pace, and she certainly cannot have that.

Grabbing the back of each knee, she unlatches his legs and instead hooks them over her shoulders. She then leans down over him, essentially bending him in half (she silently thanks the heavens that Wonka is so flexible). His desperate noises leap up an octave, and to Eliza, the sound is more glorious than any symphony in existence.

He's getting close.

Positioning her lips near his ear, she purrs, "You've been a very good boy, haven't you?"

He tries, and fails, to form a coherent sentence. Instead, he settles for a frantic nod of his head.

Eliza snakes a hand between their bodies, resting it on his abs. It begins to slowly trail lower and lower. "I want you to cum for me, Willy."

When she finally grips his length, he sobs in relief. The tip is absolutely drenched with pre-cum, letting her hand glide smoothly up and down. His arms shoot up and around her, nails utterly clawing at her back. She gasps raggedly, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure throughout her body.

Still thrusting mercilessly, she pumps faster as well. She inadvertently makes eye contact with him as she leans up on one elbow, and her heart skips a beat.

He's looking at her like he's seeing an angel. And try as she might, she just can't tear her eyes away from those hypnotic violet pools. For the thousandth time since she met him, Eliza fears she is drowning.

She is forcibly brought back to reality by a sudden, shrill cry. Wonka is cumming hard, his nails digging impossibly deeper into her back and legs shaking wildly around her. She stops thrusting, her thighs screaming their gratitude, but continues to pump as thin ropes of semen paint his abdomen, helping him to ride out the last waves of his orgasm.

Wonka comes down from the high a panting, shuddering mess. Eliza gently pulls the strap-on out, to which he grunts in discomfort. Removing the harness and haphazardly tossing it out of the way, she makes to stand with the intent of bringing him a towel.

Before she is able, she is roughly yanked downward, and Wonka kisses her like a man starved. She freezes in shock for a split second, and then melts into him. His lips move against hers greedily, feverishly, with far more ardor than she is used to. Yet, his soft hands cup her face with the utmost care, his thumbs tracing delicate circles along her jawline.

The whole thing is so sickeningly romantic. It makes her stomach jittery and her head spin. She is unable to think straight, unable to even analyze how she feels. All she knows is that she feels too much. She feels...

Well, simply put, she feels like she's going to cry.

Unwilling to endure that humiliation, she hastily breaks it off, all but jumping to her feet. Wonka regards her in an odd mixture of post-orgasmic bliss and bewilderment.

"We need to get you cleaned up," she rasps, and her voice sounds faraway and foreign.

Wonka tilts his head, the fog beginning to clear from his eyes. "Oh, of course!" he agrees, glancing at the mess he made and cringing.

Eliza retrieves a washcloth from the adjoining bathroom and dutifully wipes him off, with him squirming all the while. Being as versed in their aftercare routines as she is, she does not ask before she also fetches him a glass of water. He accepts it gratefully, downing almost the entire glass in one gulp.

"Well, that went even better than expected!" he tells her gleefully. "You're a natural, Eliza, you really are!"

She rolls her eyes, but her heart soars at the onslaught of praise.

Afterward, as she's slipping back into bed and pulling the covers over them, she hears Wonka murmur a quiet "oh, dear" behind her.

"What is it?" she asks, lying on her side and facing him.

"Well, it would appear that an angry snozzwanger got its claws into your back, instead of me," he explains sheepishly. "Sorry, starshine, I suppose I got a bit carried away there. It's not painful, is it?"

"No, not really," she replies. Honestly, it does sting slightly, but it's a comforting sort of sting. As though some deep yearning within her has been satisfied, and the leftover sensation is the only evidence.

"Still," Wonka insists. "I do feel terrible about it, just awful." A mischievous grin overtakes his features, and he inches closer. "If only there were some way to make it up to you...some way for you to get even..." He reaches her and flips them over, pinning her in place with his elbows.

"Willy..." Eliza warns, although the corners of her lips curve upwards traitorously.

"I've got it!" he exclaims, smiling brightly. "You can give me a matching set!"

Eliza sighs. "Willy, I appreciate it, but I'm spent. Don't worry about me." She wriggles her arms out from under him and loops them around his shoulders, bringing their foreheads together. "Besides," she adds, "tonight was supposed to be about you. You've been working so hard lately, after all."

He looks genuinely perplexed, the way he looks at most acts of kindness thrown his way. "I see," he muses, rolling off of her, but staying pressed snugly against her. "You're very sweet, aren't you? I bet I'd make a killing if I boxed you up and sold you alongside my Scrumdiddlyumptious Bars." He pauses thoughtfully. "That would present a few problems, though. For example, it's incredibly illegal."

"That's true. Not to mention, humans don't taste very good," Eliza supplies.

"You're mostly correct." He reaches over to tug her flush against him. "However, I happen to know from experience that you, my dear Eliza, taste-"

"Willy Wonka!" she cuts him off, scandalized. Halfheartedly pushing at his chest, she shakes her head before dissolving into a fit of giggles in his arms.

He sighs melodramatically. "It would never work anyway. I'm far too selfish." He gives her a single, quick squeeze. "Sharing you is out of the question! I suppose you're stuck here with me."

"Yes, I suppose I really am stuck here with you and your silly hypotheticals when I should be sleeping," Eliza teases, repositioning herself so that her back is pressed against his chest.

"Silly?" Wonka feigns offense. "Fine, sleep then. Perhaps it'll make you less cranky."

"You know it won't."

"Boy, do I." He rests his chin atop her head, laughing softly. The vibrations are soothing, lulling her toward what's bound to be a good night's sleep.

After a minute of peaceful silence, she feels Wonka tense up. "Eliza."

"Hm?"

"...I lo-" He stops himself. "I...love having you here...at the factory. I thought you should know."

Without opening her eyes, without facing him, she understands his meaning perfectly. Without hesitation, she responds, "Good. I love being here."

He relaxes, presses a single kiss to the top of her head, and does not make a peep the rest of the night.

Before Eliza falls asleep, her nebulous mind drifts through abstract scenarios. Scenarios of days when she possesses both the sentimentality and the courage to say aloud what she has known for a long time.

That she is ridiculously, hopelessly, madly in love with Willy Wonka.

To her surprise, the idea doesn't sound so abstract anymore. Her final thought before slipping into peaceful respite is that perhaps that day is sooner than she imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos, and tell me your thoughts in the comments below! 
> 
> P.S. I get up to plenty more Wonka-related shenanigans on my tumblr! Follow me at https://fudgemallows.tumblr.com/


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